


What Is and What Never Should Be

by ORiley42



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: (PS the Karen/Claire is v background sorry darlings), Amnesia, Angst, Apparent suicide, Canon Typical Violence, Dreaming, First Kiss, First Time, Happy Ending, M/M, but actually mostly fluff, like 1/3 angsty plot and 2/3s fluffity fluff, sort of drug reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:00:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5218928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ORiley42/pseuds/ORiley42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt wakes up to find the world completely different...and so much better. But how?</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Is and What Never Should Be

**Author's Note:**

> Title (and work) inspired by the Supernatural episode "What Is and What Never Should Be." (But with a significantly happier ending).   
> This got away from me a bit, it was supposed to be all dark, meaningful and plotty, and then it just took on a life of its own and somehow I ended up with ten pages of snuggling. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> Quick setup: takes place post-s1-finale, but Matt still wears the black suit because I LIKE IT OK and is otherwise canon compliant up to that point.

Matt woke abruptly with a pounding headache and the smell of fresh pancakes just off the griddle tickling his nose.

Who the _hell_ was making pancakes in his kitchen? He exploded out of bed and to his feet and immediately, _deeply_ , regretted it, as every inch of his body screamed in protest.

“Jeez! Matt! You scared the hell outta me! And what are you doing up, get your ass back in bed!” Matt’s heartrate slowed slightly at the comforting sound of his best friend’s voice. Pancake-mystery solved.

“Foggy? What?” Matt’s head was spinning with the pain, “How’d you get into my apartment?”

“The usual way, through the door,” Foggy replied as he tried to bustle Matt back under the sheets. “Some of us don’t swing in through windows.” Matt let himself be tucked back in, if only because he really was quite dizzy, and because Foggy’s gentle touch was just so nice.

“Now, you stay here like a good boy, and I’ll bring you breakfast in bed.” Foggy pressed Matt gently back into the mattress before padding back to the kitchen. He returned a moment later carrying a tray laden with Matt’s favorite breakfast foods, all conforming flawlessly to his very exacting standards: whole wheat pancakes without syrup, eggs sunny side up, a mug of strong Italian roast, and a glass of fresh orange juice. Matt didn’t remember giving Foggy a key to his place, nor did he remember owning a tray like that, or having purchased anything in the way of groceries for at least a week, but the food smelled incredible, so he didn’t much care.

“Now, I need to go to work soon,” Foggy began as he arranged the tray on Matt’s lap, while Matt tried not to actively drool at the breakfast-miracle laid out before him, “but Claire will check in on you later today, and I’m just a phone call away if you need anything, ok?”

“Uh…ok? Thank you. Very much. You didn’t need to do all of this…” Matt waved vaguely at the food in front of him, a veritable feast by his bowl-of-cereal-without-milk-because-he-forgot-to-go-to-the-store standards.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. It was nothing, you deserve it after the night you had.”

Hmm. It occurred to Matt that he couldn’t actually remember what had happened last night. He couldn’t remember how he’d ended up in bed, or what had happened that was causing his head to continue to pound like a bongo drum an angry seventh grader was taking his frustration out on. He opened his mouth to ask Foggy what had happened, but found himself unable to speak when Foggy took the opportunity to fork up a sizable bite of pancake and feed it to him. Now, Matt’s mouth was full of pancake and his mind was full of static because, A) this was a really good pancake, Foggy was definitely in the wrong line of business, and B) Foggy was feeding him? In bed? Feeding him delicious pancakes that he made just for Matt? While this was a highly pleasant experience, it was also distinctly unusual. Matt wondered if Foggy was feeling alright.

Foggy continued speaking as if feeding Matt breakfast in bed was an everyday occurrence. “Karen promised to swing by too, before she and Claire drag me off to the tailor.” Claire? Since when were she and Karen friends? Since when had they even _met_? And _where_ were they taking Foggy? Now Matt wondered if _he_ was feeling alright.

“Tailor?” Matt managed to ask through his growing befuddlement and around his mouthful of breakfast.

“For my suit, dear, please try and keep up. Best men like you and me have to look sharp.” _What_?

“Best men?” Also, _dear_? At the level of confusion Matt was approaching, even two-word sentences were a struggle.

Foggy put his hand next to his ear, “is there an echo in here? Yes, Matt. Karen and Claire’s very bestest best men must wear nice suits at their wedding, or else they will cause us grievous bodily harm.”

Matt wondered if he’d finally snapped. All that horror and trauma and violence had finally caught up to him, and he was trading in his mask for a straightjacket.

The mask…did that have something to do with the rather bizarre reality he was currently experiencing? It was lying out on his bedside table, he could smell the blood congealed in the fabric. He reached for it absently, running his fingers over the familiar texture to comfort himself with the knowledge that at least part of his world was how he remembered it.

“God, Matt, what are you doing? Put that down.” Foggy snatched the cloth from his hand. “Don’t you even think about it, you masochist. This mask is going in the damn closet for at least a week.”

Matt shrank away, saddened but not surprised by Foggy’s sharp tone. Foggy hated the mask, of course, he always had. The pancakes must just be a fluke.

Foggy continued, “It wasn’t enough to put away Fisk and all of his cronies, you won’t stop until the streets are swept entirely free of crime…not a baby will lose its candy in this city as long as you’re around, right?”

Foggy finally seemed to pick up on Matt’s darkening expression. He sighed and, to Matt’s eternal surprise, reached out and cupped Matt’s face in both hands. “You _know_ I’m incredibly proud of you, and everything you’ve done for this city. But you need to take care of yourself sometimes, ok?” Foggy didn’t wait for an answer before he leaned in and kissed Matt softly.

Matt’s brain seemed to catalogue the sensations like they belonged to someone else. Because they couldn’t be happening to him, could they? He must be having some sort of out of body experience. Well, it sure as hell felt like it was _his_ body that Foggy was touching so tenderly, _his_ skin that was burning at Foggy’s unexpected heat, _his_ lips that were tingling as Foggy pulled away.

“OK, Matty?” Foggy asked again.

Matt would bet that Foggy was looking at him expectantly, waiting for a response, but Matt was rather preoccupied with the lapse in sanity he currently appeared to be experiencing.

 “You…kissed me,” Matt murmured, dazed.

“Yessir. Been doin’ that for quite some time now and I don’t plan on stopping.” Foggy stroked Matt’s cheek affectionately as he said this, speaking as if he was making perfect sense instead of turning Matt’s brain into Jell-O.

“We’ve kissed…before?” No. No, they hadn’t, Matt was completely certain he’d remember that. In intricate detail. Forever.

“Of course we’ve kissed before, Matt, what are you playing at?” Matt could sense that his words were honestly upsetting Foggy and he instinctively wanted to remedy that – but he didn’t have the first idea how.

“Oh, right!” Matt started at the sharp clap of Foggy suddenly smacking his own forehead, “the head trauma! Of course. Those arms dealers in that warehouse on the docks did a real number on you. Poor thing…” Foggy snuggled closer to Matt’s side, reaching up to stroke his hair tenderly.

“The docks…” Matt echoed vaguely, trying to remember. But he couldn’t seem to think clearly through the confused haze that had settled over his mind, made no better by the heady rush of Foggy’s intimate proximity.

“Yeah, Matty, the docks,” Foggy murmured gently, “Last night? You hardly made it back, I really thought I might lose you for a minute there. Claire calmed me down, said that head injuries always bleed a lot and that you’d be fine. But she also told me that there might be some amnesia with a concussion like you got…I guess that’s what we’re dealing with now, huh?”

“Uh…”

“Don’t worry Matty, I’ll take care of you.” Matt’s heart skipped another beat when Foggy sealed his words with a gentle brush of lips on Matt’s forehead. “And, I guess we’re both calling in sick. I think a bout of memory loss calls for some serious quality time with my dumb, but very hot, superhero boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Matt murmured hopefully, figuring that a blow to the head would excuse his apparent inability to speak in complete sentences.

“Yup, boyfriend. The whole shebang. I moved in, and everything.”

Matt let his senses expand beyond himself and Foggy, and suddenly found the input to be confirming everything he’d been told. Foggy’s scent was everywhere: in the kitchen, along with a variety of foods that only his very particular tastes could endure; in the closet with his suits, hung beside Matt’s; and in the bed, mixed into Matt’s sheets…their sheets. Their bed. How had he not noticed…?

“How long?” Matt managed to ask, though his mind felt like a record stuck on one word: boyfriend? Foggy was his _boyfriend_ , and he had forgotten this? How could that be possible?

“Well, I mean, I kind of wanted to jump your bones after you saved me from that asshole Brad back in college, but…I didn’t think you felt the same way. So, I waited, and waited. Then the night we decided to set out on our own, Nelson and Murdock and all that, you seemed to just explode, and you grabbed me by the lapels and laid a big, wet one on me, right in front of poor Josie.”

“Oh.” Matt couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t he remember?

“Yeah, she dumped some soda water on you, and told us to get the hell out of her bar, she wasn’t about to let a fine establishment like hers turn into the setting of a porno…but she was happy for us, you could tell.”

“I don’t…Foggy. I don’t remember.” Panic tinged with agony rose in his chest. All these years of pining, and wanting, and waiting and…and he had everything he ever wanted.

“Matty, don’t worry,” Foggy moved to hold him close, the bedsprings squeaking as he climbed properly into the bed with Matt. “Everything will be fine, I promise. You don’t have to be sad…I’m happy to relive all those old memories for you…and make some new ones.” Foggy leaned in, pulling Matt into their second (apparently not second, so much more than that) kiss. Matt heard the scrape and clink of Foggy pushing the forgotten breakfast tray to the side, allowing him the room to run his hands along Matt’s sides as he deepened the kiss.

It was perfect, like living one of his many Foggy-centric fantasies. A dream come true. Matt let his worries about the past and his faulty memory melt away with Foggy’s warmth, and sank into an embrace he’d only ever felt in his sleep.

An hour or two, or perhaps only a few minutes later (Matt found time to be irrelevant when Foggy was this close) a thought that had been niggling at the back of his mind finally broke to the surface, forcing him to pull reluctantly away from Foggy.

“Wait, Foggy. You said…you said I saved you, from Brad, in college?”

“Uh, yeah…he’d been bullying me something awful, and you decided to take matters into your own hands. He was lucky to escape with his limbs intact, the way you tell it… It was a little scary at first when you explained what happened, but then…” Foggy leaned back in, brushing his lips against Matt’s, “then I thought it was kind of hot.”

“But, Foggy,” Matt gently gripped Foggy’s arms, keeping him and his distracting lips at bay. “I didn’t tell you that. I didn’t tell you about Brad, about any of it.”

“Of course you did, Matty. You told me everything, you would never lie to me.”

“But…but I _did_ …I kept my secret, all those secrets, for _years_ …”

“No, sweetheart, you didn’t keep anything from me.”

_Sweetheart_. It really was like a dream.

“I don’t remember…I don’t remember telling you…” He’d only dreamed it. He’d only dreamed that he’d told Foggy everything from the beginning. That he’d confessed about his senses, about the Devil inside him, about the violence and the training and the anger… How many times had he dreamed that he’d been _honest_ rather than wrapped himself in a web of lies? A web which had been rent violently apart, piece by agonizing piece, when Foggy had found out the bloody truth on his own.

“It was just a dream,” he mumbled nonsensically.

“It wasn’t. It was real. I’m real.” Foggy took one of Matt’s hands and pressed it to his lips, setting delicate kisses on each of his fingers. Before Matt could say anything else, his thoughts were scrambled by the sound of a knock at the door. Karen and Claire, he recognized their heartbeats…though he couldn’t quite figure out why he only heard them now. Familiar beats like theirs usually triggered his senses from a block away. Foggy bounced off the bed, brushing a lingering kiss to Matt’s cheek as he went.

“Hey, Matt! How’re you feeling?” Karen called as she and Claire walked through the door, hand in hand.

“Uh…um. Ok, I guess.” Matt felt panicked again as the two women drew closer. What excuse for his injuries had they told Karen?

“About as good as can be expected after taking down a whole gang by yourself, I guess,” Karen reached out to pat his hand sympathetically.

“Wh-what? You…know?”

“Well, yeah, of course! Claire gave me the scoop when she got home from patching you up,” Karen answered casually, as if her fiancé (which, what? That was a whole other thing that Matt needed to catch up on) leaving in the middle of the night to tend to her vigilante-boss’s wounds was par for the course. Which, apparently it was.

“I…I don’t remember…telling you about the mask.”

“What? That was ages ago, Matt. Why-”

Claire cut her off gently, “Oh, honey…” Now it was Claire’s turn to pat Matt’s hand, sympathy radiating off of her. “You’re experiencing some memory loss, aren’t you? I was worried about that. But don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine.”

“Yeah,” Matt mumbled, “everyone keeps saying that.” But somehow, he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything wasn’t fine. “But, Foggy… you didn’t actually ever call them over, did you?  Karen and Claire?” he muttered to Foggy, who had settled himself back against Matt’s side.

“Of course I did, the concussion is just confusing you. Don’t worry, Matty.” Foggy kissed his cheek again, soft and sweet. “Everything’s fine.”

Everything’s fine.

No, everything was _perfect_ , Matt learned. Karen and Claire’s wedding was going to be a big bash, designer dresses and a cake the size of the Empire State Building, the whole nine yards. And Nelson & Murdock was footing the bill – because apparently, Nelson & Murdock had become a big, successful firm at some point during the blank spaces in Matt’s mind. He wasn’t sure how this happened, since he, Karen, and Foggy still seemed to be the only three employees, but he couldn’t quite make his mouth form words to question it. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to question any of it, actually. It was all just too perfect. Like a dream.

“And Elena is just so excited, she can’t stop talking about how happy she is,” Karen was bubbling over about her upcoming nuptials, while Claire leaned back in her chair, smiling contentedly at her bride-to-be. Matt had been nodding along, happy to just sit and listen quietly to the sounds of the people he loved most being happy. But his instincts forced him to interrupt, asking, “Wait, Elena? Do I know her?”

“Of course you do, silly. Elena Cardenas. You helped save her tenement building from Tully and the rest of those slumlord assholes.”

“But she…” Matt wasn’t sure how to feel, what to think. Obviously, Ms. Cardenas being alive was wonderful news, but it was also impossible news. There was simply no way for it to be true…which left only a few options, none of which boded well for Matt.

“But she _died_ ,” he finally managed to say.

“Oh no, Matt!” Karen twittered, reaching out to give his hand a squeeze, “She’s fine!”

“Alive and well!” Foggy piped up.

“Just yesterday she helped me with the flower arrangements.” Claire added.

There was a general chorus from around the room of “don’t worry, Matt…”

“…everything’s fine.”

Matt wasn’t sure who said it that time, maybe all of them, maybe none of them. Part of his mind, the part made of steel and bone, the part that drags his beaten carcass off the ground when he’s already lost a fight, is kicking up a ruckus in his head. It knows something is seriously wrong. But the other part of him, the part of him that has a weakness for warm, fuzzy socks and still remembers what the sky looked like just wanted to move on. Let it go. Relax into the warmth of Foggy, his best friend, his _boyfriend_ , so solid and perfect next to him. _This_ Foggy he’d never lied to. This Claire wasn’t alone. This Karen knew the truth and was safe and happy. This world still had Elena Cardenas. Wherever this place was, it was perfect. Why would he want to leave?

Well, an icy voice in his mind snapped, that depends on who put you here.

“Foggy…who were those arms dealers…the ones you said I got conked in the head taking down?”

“I dunno. Does it matter? You took care of them, the city is safe once again, and you came home to me in one piece.” Foggy squeezed his hand as he continued, “And that’s all that matters.”

“Right,” Matt agreed, even as the hair on the back of his neck stood up. “That’s all that matters.”

_Something_ was the matter. Something was wrong. He just couldn’t… _see_ it.

“Claire,” Matt turned to her, trying not to let the concerns he felt prickling at the back of his throat get washed away by the warmth of sensing how happy and in love she was. “Did I say anything to you, when you were fixing me up? A name?”

“What? No, Matt you didn’t, and you don’t need to worry about it. Like Foggy said, everything’s –”

“Claire, _please_ listen to me. A name. Was there one? This could have been a move by one of the mobs in town, gearing up for something big in the power vacuum that Fisk left. Or, or…” Matt’s blood froze in his veins. “It could have been Fisk, somehow, he could have done this to me…” He certainly had the motivation, Matt considered grimly. But why would he put Matt…here? Where was ‘here’? _What_ was ‘here’? What had been done to him?

“Fisk?” Foggy’s voice shattered Matt’s train of thought, his notions and worries threatening to fade away out of his grasp like wisps of smoke. “Fisk’s in prison and he’s in there for good. Ben saw to that, his front page story blew Fisk’s philanthropist cover out of the water. Everyone knows that Wilson Fisk is an evil man, and there’s no putting that genie back in the bottle.”

Matt’s first thought: Ben. Alive, too. Then: genie? Genie – that was something important. A name…?

Matt felt like he was chasing the ghosts of memories…he wanted to remember something, he _needed_ to remember something, but what?

Foggy’s lips were a sudden, insistent heat against his own. Matt opened his mouth without thinking, letting Foggy in. They moved together with the grace of a symphony, and the sound of skin sliding on skin was a concerto to Matt’s ears. Foggy nipped tenderly at his lower lip, and Matt couldn’t stop a small sigh from escaping at how good it felt, how good all of Foggy felt, warm and pliant under his hands. It was wonderful, soft and sweet, everything Matt had…dreamed.

“Wait,” Matt ripped himself away, the motion making it feel like the air had been punched from his lungs. “Karen, and Claire…?” They were gone, their scents and sounds had disappeared somehow, mysteriously and suddenly and completely absent from his radar.

“I sent them home,” Foggy murmured in his ear, his breath skating across Matt’s skin, almost painfully tantalizing. “I thought we needed to be alone. Just you and me, together, like we should be.”

“I don’t remember…” Matt whispered weakly, even as he let himself be pulled back into Foggy’s embrace.

He was being kissed again, and so much of him wanted to sink into those sensations but that steely core was making such a racket…

 He had to remember…he’d been doing something, before…he’d been somewhere, trying to stop…

“C’mon, Matty,” one of Foggy’s hands slipped down Matt’s back to squeeze pointedly below the waistband of his favorite pajama pants, “you seem preoccupied, like you’re someplace else. I’m insulted.” Foggy didn’t sound insulted, he sounded happy. Happy Foggy. Matt didn’t want anything else. But…

“I’m in trouble.” Matt’s voice came out almost in a whisper, cracking slightly at the end as the smoke took shape in his mind, and the pieces began to click into place.

“What? No you’re not, Matt, everything’s fine.”

“You keep saying that and I want to believe you but…” Matt forced himself to tear away from Foggy’s side completely, dancing away from the siren song his senses sang about the love of his life reaching out for him from his bed. He felt bereft without Foggy’s heat, but he kept moving away. Foggy was too dangerous. Foggy made him want to stay.

Matt couldn’t stay.

“Please, Matt, come back to bed. Where are you going?” Foggy followed Matt as he stumbled away, his only goal to get to anywhere he could think clearly. His toes curled at the almost painful cold of the tile as he moved off the living room rug and into the kitchen. He felt along the edge of the counter, and suddenly the sharp scent of metal grabbed his attention.

Finally, Matt realized what he had to do.

“What…what are you doing, Matty?” Foggy slowly raised his hands, palms up, calm and placating, “Put the knife down.” Matt didn’t put the knife down. It was small, a paring knife, it had never been used to slice anything more dangerous than a strawberry. But it would do the job.

“C’mon, Foggy, you’re the sci-fi addict. We watched those movies together…the movies where the lead is trapped in a dream – and there’s only one way out.”

“No, Matty, no, please! You’re sick, you’re hurting, you don’t have to do this!” Matt could sense Foggy reaching for him, and he instinctively brandished the knife in his direction. Foggy froze in his tracks, and Matt’s heart leapt into his throat. God, he was holding a knife to his best friend. To _Foggy_.

He’d sure as hell better be right about this.

“I’m sorry, Foggy, but I do.” Matt slowly turned the knife over in his fingers, the plastic handle already slippery with his sweat. He listened to the sound of his own pulse, beating and beating. Circulating life in his veins. Fragile things, veins, paper thin. People were, when they came down to it, they were paper thin. Paper people, just paper dolls. A scissor cut and they were gone.

“No, Matt, you can stay here. Stay here with me.” Matt realized his dead eyes were burning with tears. He felt a rush of heat as Foggy leaped towards him, throwing his body against Matt’s, crushing a kiss to his lips before he could move away.

“I love you,” Matt whispered against Foggy’s mouth.

“No, _Matt_...”

Matt’s heart screamed as he tossed Foggy easily to the floor, and swung the blade towards his own throat. Beat, beat, beat went his life…

“Goodbye.”

“ _No_ –!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Matt awoke with a gasp, limbs flailing like he’d been electrocuted. His heart raced and his head pounded as he frantically tried to take in his surroundings.

One heartbeat.

_The Genie_.

Reality crashed down on Matt’s psyche, almost pinning him back to the grimy, salty concrete floor of the warehouse by the docks. He’d come here, before, in the real world, to stop the Genie. Such a fanciful name, but accurate, in a twisted way. The Genie was the newest drug lord in town, touting a high like no other: one dose, one wish. Any and all fantasies fulfilled, within the comfort of your own mind. The downside to this pharmaceutical heaven was the unfortunate tendency for returning users to enter a permanent catatonic state, or, with a strong enough dose, simply fade away into death while they slept. Daydream, the stuff was called.

_Of course_.

A tiny spot of pain pinged on his bicep from where the Genie had managed to stick him with the needle that sent him down the rabbit hole. Matt’s stomach heaved as he dragged himself to his feet, stumbling towards the heartbeat. Steady. The Genie wasn’t worried. An overdose like he’d given Matt, well. He should have been dead, by all accounts, or at least locked permanently away in la-la land. It would’ve been enough to kill an ordinary man. But, Matt thought grimly as he wrapped his gloved hand around a chunk of rebar and let the roar of blood in his ears overtake him, I’m no ordinary man.

“Why couldn’t you just stay there?” The Genie spit out through broken teeth after Matt cornered him a minute later, “it was perfect! A dream come true! You could have stayed there, and been happy forever! Why would you cast yourself out of Heaven and back into Hell?”

“Don’t you know what I’m called?” The Devil sneered, letting his makeshift weapon drop to the floor with an ominous clang as he reached towards the quiet clink of a syringe, “Hell is where I belong.”

The police would find the Genie the next morning, unresponsive, his eyes twitching in drugged REM behind his lids. He had been shoved into a cargo hold filled with Daydream, lost in his mind forever, jammed back in the filthy bottle he belonged in.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Matt dragged himself home, head spinning, trying to sort through his mental labyrinth of reality and fantasy. He was so lost in his tangled thoughts that he didn’t notice the thump of a familiar heartbeat waiting outside his door until he’d crawled back through the window into his apartment. With a sudden burst of energy, he dashed to the door and threw it open wildly, causing the person behind it to jump, startled.

“Foggy!” Matt couldn’t contain his joy at sensing the familiar shape, and he wasted no time leaping forward and wrapping his best friend in a tight hug. Matt froze as he realized that _this_ Foggy may not be so amenable to unexpected shows of affection. But his worries proved unfounded as Foggy leaned happily into the embrace, hugging Matt back with a relieved sigh.

“You had me worried, man.” Foggy’s voice was too loud right next to Matt’s ear, but he didn’t care. The sound was music, complete with its complex timbre and accompanying echoes as the sound waves bounced off the world around them – the real world, with all the details that hadn’t been realized in the Daydream. “You’ve been gone all night, you didn’t answer your phone…I hoped if I waited here long enough you’d show up. And, here you are!”

“Here I am,” Matt agreed as he reluctantly loosened his hold on Foggy.

“You really did _just_ get back, didn’t you…” Foggy trailed off pointedly, tapping Matt’s chest. It took Matt a moment to cotton on to Foggy’s meaning, before he realized he’d just opened the door to his apartment in full Man-in-the-Mask gear, where anyone could spot him.

“Oh!” Matt grabbed Foggy’s arm, pulling him into the apartment and shutting the door behind him.

“So, you gonna tell me what happened to you?” Foggy asked pleasantly.

“I, uh…I had a run in with the Genie…” Matt began hesitantly as he dropped Foggy off at the couch, continuing to the bathroom to peel off his black suit.

“Wait, that creep with the crazy new drug you were telling me about? Daydream?” Foggy called to him, as Matt debated what to change into.

“Yeah, more like nightmare,” he tossed back, as he decided on his usual button-up and slacks, despite the late hour. He needed the familiar comfort of luxury linen, and for some reason, he felt like he needed to maintain a layer of professionalism with Foggy. Just until Matt could get his head back on straight…and stop flashing back to the gentle pressure of Foggy’s mouth on his every five damn seconds.

“Oh my god, Matt, did he…did he _get_ you?”

“Oh yeah, big time,” Matt confirmed as he joined Foggy on the couch. He almost started to tell the tale, but his self-preservation instincts dragged him screeching to a halt. What was he _doing_? He couldn’t tell Foggy about what his fantasyland was like. That would beyond damning.

“Well, what happened?” Foggy prompted, “Did you, you know, live your dream?”

“Um…yeah. Yeah I did,” Matt admitted quietly.

“So…” Foggy urged him on gently, “do I get to hear about it?”

“I…I don’t know, Foggy. You were there and…I don’t know if you want to know.”

“I really think I do.” Foggy reached out to grasp Matt’s shoulder, and Matt felt his silent resolve starting to crack at the touch. “C’mon, Matty, what was I like?”

_Matty_. Damn.

“It’s supposed to be like a fairytale happy ending, right, so I couldn’t have been _that_ bad!”

“Oh, Fog, you weren’t bad. The opposite. You were good. The best.” That was the truth. It _had_ been the best, even if Matt had been tripping balls the entire time.

“Really? Cause you don’t look like you had a good time. I mean, I’m sure the whole getting-drugged-by-a-supervillain thing wasn’t a walk in the park but…I feel like there’s something…else.”

Matt kept his features still, not betraying anything.

“Was it…me?” Foggy probed quietly, “Dream-me?”

Twitch. Damn. Matt read Foggy’s heartbeat and knew he’d picked up on Matt’s reaction to the guess.

“It _was_ me,” Foggy confirmed. “Did dream-me do something to you? Something that hurt you? Matt…” Foggy squeezed Matt’s shoulder again and Matt could feel his rational side losing the fight with the part of him that didn’t listen to logic or reason, the part of him that was a crackling white fire, so alive and so different from the destructive blaze that sent him to the streets looking for blood. The part of him that wanted very badly to _live_.

“He didn’t… _that_ Foggy didn’t… he didn’t hurt me. Not at all.”

“Then what did he do, Matt? What?”

Foggy was so close, and it was dangerous. Matt’s head was in a precarious place, and he could still taste dream-Foggy on his lips, but he didn’t know, _couldn’t_ know if what his mind had conjured up was accurate unless…

“He did this,” Matt confessed in a whisper before he reached out and he smashed his mouth against Foggy’s, illustrating with a little more violence exactly what his imagined Foggy had done.

Matt wasn’t sure what to make of Foggy’s skyrocketing pulse until he pulled back slightly to whisper roughly against Matt’s mouth, “I am _so_ jealous right now that my evil twin got to kiss you before I did.” Matt barely had time to huff a surprised laugh before Foggy grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in for a deeper, wetter kiss.

Matt kissed him back until he was satisfied that Foggy wasn’t going anywhere, before drawing away as little as was needed to murmur, “he wasn’t your _evil_ twin, in fact he was good… _very_ good…” Matt couldn’t help laughing as his words seemed to spur Foggy’s already roving hands into further action.

“Are you making me jealous on purpose?” Foggy growled, gripping hotly at Matt’s thighs and practically hauling him into his lap. Matt tried to do something manlier than giggle at that, but giggles bubbled up anyway.

“I am, actually. I, uh… I think I like you when you’re… _jealous_ …” Matt trailed his fingers meaningfully down the line of buttons on Foggy’s shirtfront, and laughed again when Foggy’s breathing started to approach hyperventilation. “Hey, now, don’t go into shock on me,” Matt intoned against Foggy’s jaw.

“No promises.”

“Well, I do know CPR so…if you were to require mouth-to-mouth…”

“I do! I do. I definitely do,” Foggy mumbled as he chased Matt’s lips. Matt swung his leg across Foggy’s lap so he could straddle him properly, and almost of their own volition it seemed, Foggy’s hands slid slowly down Matt’s back to curve around his ass. Matt squirmed in pleasure at the touch, but the movement seemed to worry Foggy, since he moved to pull his hands away as if fearing he’d gone too far. But, Matt promptly reached around and guided Foggy’s hands firmly back to where they’d been.

“Ooh, on the first date?” Matt teased softly, “I had no idea you were such a bad boy, Foggy.”

“First date? We’ve known each other for _years_ , we’re been living in each other’s pockets for most of that, I’d say it’s about damn time.” Foggy punctuated this statement with a sharp squeeze of Matt’s ass.

“Mmm, a convincing argument, counselor,” Matt drawled in Foggy’s ear, nibbling gently on the sensitive flesh. Foggy’s poor heart, which had gone through quite a lot that night, really did almost stop as Matt tentatively began to unbutton Foggy’s shirt. Foggy gripped Matt’s hips tightly enough to make the bruises his fight with the Genie had left him with twinge. The soft pain twined wonderfully with the pleasure, making Matt’s heartrate jump up and give Foggy’s a run for its money.

“God, I love you,” Foggy choked out suddenly, sending Matt’s heartbeat to a clutching, skidding halt, before it bounded back to life bringing panic in its wake. Did Foggy _know_ what he’d just _said_? Had he just meant it casually, like the way he’d said it to Matt before all of this? Like the way he said “you brought me pizza with anchovies _and_ pineapple? Aw, Matt I love you”? Or had he meant it…differently?

Foggy noticed Matt’s sudden distress when his hands stilled mid-shirt-button. Foggy leaned slowly back, taking in Matt’s rather stricken expression.

“Oh…dude,” he stuttered, and Matt could feel Foggy’s anxiety revving up. “I…I’m sorry, Matty. Didn’t mean to throw you a curveball like that. Don’t worry, you don’t have to say it back, it’s ok.”

“I…it’s not….you _love_ me? Are you…sure?” Matt cocked his head, part of him expecting Foggy to explain that yeah, he loved Matt, but not _love_ -love, obviously.

“Am I _sure_? Jeez, Matt, of course I’m sure. I am very sure. The surest.”

“Really? Because I never thought…I never _sensed_ …”

“Are you disputing my own testimony about my _own_ , deep dark feelings? Because I’m pretty sure radioactive super senses are not admissible in a court of law.”

“I guess…”

“ _Matt_. If I went into cardiac arrest every time you smiled, or wore a shirt that was too tight, or said something really damn sweet, I’d be dead so many times over, I’d be like a quadrillion-level zombie.”

“That’s a colorful image.”

“Thank you, I’m very creative.”

“You really are,” Matt couldn’t help but respond fondly.

“There, see!” Foggy jumped a little, startling Matt.

“What?”

“My heart!” Foggy took Matt’s hand and pressed it to his chest, where Matt could feel Foggy’s heart beating strong and sure beneath his ribs. “ _Listen_. What you just said? You say that sort of thing all the time, and it always makes me want to kiss you. That kind of stuff, I had to get used to real quick because back in college you were, like, king of the heteros, and I didn’t want to turn our roomie situation into a shitshow over my misplaced crush.”

“So…”

“So, yeah, now that you’re literally sitting in my lap, my heart’s probably going loud like a club beat, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t feel this way before. It was just more…I dunno, more emotional, than physical, if that makes any sense?”

Matt found his usual well of pithy remarks had mysteriously run dry, and the best he could drum up was a faint, “Oh. OK.”

“Um, like I said, no big deal,” Foggy shifted uncomfortably under Matt. “You don’t have to say it back…”

“Wait. What? No, Foggy, of course I want to say it back. Of course I do.” Matt tried to calm his pounding heart, to no avail, as his brain continued to process the apparent reality of Foggy declaring his love for him.

Foggy waited for a minute, before nudging Matt’s side, prompting, “you do…?”

“Oh! God! Foggy.” Matt shook his head in an attempt to clear it, before reaching out to take Foggy’s face in both hands, doing his best to mimic staring deeply into his eyes (they were blue, he remembered Foggy saying once. Matt liked blue.) “Foggy Nelson…” Matt sucked in a deep breath, hoping his voice wouldn’t falter as he finally said what he’d been feeling for years: “I love you.”

Matt heard the soft whisper of Foggy’s eyelashes brushing his cheeks as his eyes fell closed. “Wow,” Foggy breathed, “that sounded even better than I’d imagined.”

Matt ducked his head, hoping the shadows would hide how goofy his smile must be right then. “Yeah?” his voice came out closer to a whisper than he’d intended.

“Yeah. It sounded…just…” Foggy crooked a finger under Matt’s chin, tipping it back up, “ _incredible_.”

Matt bit his lip, still feeling oddly shy. “I liked how it sounded when you said it too,” he admitted, his head tilting almost subconsciously into the touch of Foggy’s hand on his jaw.

“Just wondering….” Foggy’s words trailed off for a moment before he seemingly found his courage, “did, um, my not-evil twin beat me to the punch? Say the big three words before I could?”

 “Ah, no. No, he didn’t.” Matt shrugged a little sharply, “Guess even my subconscious couldn’t imagine that that would be possible.”

“Or, I counter, your subconscious knew I would kick subconscious-me’s ass if he said it before I did.”

A laugh burst from Matt at that, his head falling back as he let the joy of the moment burn away the guilt and self-loathing that seemed to claw nearly constantly behind his ribs. Foggy made a happy noise of his own, leaning forward to take advantage of the opportunity presented by the movement and nuzzle at Matt’s neck.

Matt sighed happily, the noise almost turning to a whimper as Foggy found his pulse point and started sucking gently.

“Mmm, Foggy…” Matt murmured absently as he let his hands tangle in Foggy’s hair, leaning forward to press their chests and hips more firmly together.

Matt smiled as he felt Foggy’s heartbeat stutter, and heard him mumble against Matt’s jaw, “So, uh, how, uh…”

“How what?” Matt prompted gently.

“How far, you know, do you want to…go?” Foggy barely seemed able to get the last word out, the blood rushing to his face like an open flame against Matt’s skin, sparking off a lightning bolt of arousal low in Matt’s stomach.

“How far do _you_ want to go?” Matt asked patiently. Sure, there was an honest chance he’d spontaneously combust if Foggy decided to go home alone to his own bed rather than to Matt’s, but after years of pining, Matt sure as hell wasn’t going to ruin this by going too fast. He’d rather go up against Nobu again than make Foggy unhappy.

“Well…I don’t have any plans for breakfast,” Foggy finally answered, hesitant but clearly hopeful.

“Neither do I.” Matt grinned, leaning in so his lips brushed against Foggy’s with every syllable as he added in a low whisper, “Whataya say we make some plans, now?”

“Yes, please,” Foggy whispered back, his thudding heartbeat turning Matt’s smile wicked.

“Okay then, let’s get started.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Foggy was so wonderfully gentle, it almost brought Matt to tears more than once.

Night after night of violence had led Matt to feel like the absence of sunlight on his skin meant the absence of good in the world, but Foggy’s worshipping touch was re-writing the conditioning he’d thought was hardwired into his system. If this was what future nights held for him…he could learn to love the coolness of the moon.

Coming back to himself after Foggy set stars off behind his eyes was a long, slow, warm process. He relaxed back into his senses gradually, feeling a comforting heat bathing his entire body, a soft rhythmic whooshing that tickled his ear and made him smile, a low thump that filled his whole universe and sounded the way home had felt when he was young and safe.

“Hey there, Matty,” a soft murmur sounded next to his ear, and his body instinctively curled towards the sound.

“Hey,” he managed to whisper back, still trying to drag his mind and body back together. He finally noticed the gentle brush of fingers moving across his chest, and his sudden consciousness of the touch sent a crackle like electricity across his skin, bringing him sharply back to reality. But unlike the other times his mind had returned from a different plane, usually marked by the immediate flood of agonizing pain and imminent danger from whatever had sent him into unconsciousness in the first place, he found himself safe and whole and…content. It was such a jarring disconnect with how returns to awareness usually felt, he found him checking and double-checking all his sensory input – because he had to be sure this was _real_ , and that he wasn’t still stuck in his head, his body tucking his mind away in a safe, happy place while it bled out in a back alley somewhere. No, said his hearing, smell, touch, taste, and radar: this is real. _He_ is real.

“Still with me, Matty?” Matty. That’s me, he thought a little loopily as he stood down his internal defenses and let himself sink into the flow of endorphins cocooning his body in warm, gentle pleasure.

“Foggy. I’m with you. And you’re with me.” Matt knew he probably sounded ridiculous, but he was honestly too busy being thrilled that he was alive and healthy and only inches away from the man he loved.

“I am with you, buddy. Right here.”

Matt hummed happily, leaning in a little closer to the soothing warmth of Foggy’s body.

“So, you’re ok?” Foggy continued, his heartrate spiking a little in a way that would have sent up a red flag on Matt’s senses if he hadn’t been so busy mentally cataloguing every nuance of sensation as Foggy’s hand kept stroking gently along his collarbone, down his chest, tracing around the lines of muscle…

“You’re, uh, you’re…happy?” Foggy’s words were distinctly nervous now, the tone finally grabbing Matt’s attention. Matt replayed the sounds in his mind, noticing they seemed to hold a hidden weight or meaning that Matt couldn’t deduce.

“Understatement. I’m… _very_ happy,” Matt grinned broadly, hoping that was the right answer.

“Good….” Even if Foggy’s words hadn’t trailed off suspiciously, Matt would have picked up on his rabbiting heartbeat. Had that _not_ been the right answer?

“Was it… good for you?” Matt probed tentatively, “I thought you seemed, uh, happy but…”

“What? God yes, it was good for me. Talk about understatement. And I’m very happy. I’m just, uh…curious if…Um. Was that,” Matt felt the air move as Foggy made a gesture between their bodies, “was _that_ better than you’d…dreamed?”

“Uh, yeah, especially since it wasn’t accompanied by a truckload of guilt in the morning for my subconscious habit of dreaming about you being naked in my bed. But…” Understanding dawned on Matt. “You didn’t mean _normal_ dreams.”

“No, I didn’t. Though I’m pretty thrilled to hear you dreamed about me just generally.” Foggy’s fingers wandered down to run along the lines of Matt’s abdomen. “I did too. Dream about you, that is. If you were curious.”

“I was, actually. And I’m glad to hear it.” Matt smiled sleepily, his eyes drifting to half-mast as he enjoyed Foggy’s tender touch. “But Dream-Foggy and I didn’t really do anything like that… So, you don’t have to worry about whatever it is you’re worrying about.”

“Good. I think I just…I really don’t like the idea of having to compete with some…some dream-perfect version of myself.” Foggy pressed his face into the pillow, and it finally clicked in Matt’s afterglow-clouded mind what the strange tone in Foggy’s voice and all the little signs his body was giving off meant.

“You…you’re jealous? Of him? Of…yourself?”

“I’m sorry Matty, I know I’m being ridiculous… but, it’s just so crazy that I’ve wanted you for so long, and what finally got us together was some bizarre fantasy version of me, and now I can feel a complex coming on where I’m terrified I won’t live up to his perfect dreamy standards-”

“But that’s exactly it, Fog,” Matt interrupted gently, careful to keep his tone patient as he cut through Foggy’s increasingly upset babbling. “He was _dream_ -perfect, he wasn’t real. He wasn’t _your_ kind of perfect. Yes, it was hard to leave that place, one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, actually, but…but when I got back, I realized that I hadn’t lost the most important thing... I still had you, and I still had time to make things right with us…I still had time to build the life with you that my daydream had just given me pre-packaged. And, and,” Matt started to get more agitated, struggling to express what he was feeling, knowing that despite his usual gift of eloquence, words were failing him now.

“And that was what made the dream so hard to accept in the first place! The idea that I had missed so much time with you, that I didn’t remember our first kiss, or you moving in with me, or…or you saying ‘I love you.’ So, Foggy, I, uh… I left _him_ , for _you_.”

“Oh,” Foggy murmured in a small voice.

“So…don’t worry that you’re competing with anyone else, imaginary or otherwise.”

“Ok.” There was a beat of silence, before Matt heard the sound of Foggy’s taking in a deep breath, before saying in a more normal voice, “Sorry Matty, I think the lack of sleep and the wild sex have combined to give me some sort of truly bizarre self-esteem crisis.”

Matt didn’t trust the sudden buoyancy in Foggy’s tone, but he let it slide, mentally promising that he’d tell Foggy every day from now until forever that he was easily the best thing to ever happen to Matt, and Matt would try and be the best he could for Foggy.

“Well, enough mopey times. Tell me about the fun stuff!” Foggy emphasized his words by reaching out and shaking Matt’s shoulder a little, eliciting a soft giggle and then a sigh from Matt, who leaned in closer, tucking one hand under his head while he reached out to rest his other against Foggy’s chest.

“What made your ride on the daydream express so fabulous? We can start working on bringing it into reality.”

Matt hummed thoughtfully. “It was beautiful, Foggy. Honestly, so…perfect. I woke up, and you were there, with…with pancakes, and you were just…you were _you_ except you were _mine_.”

“Sounds pretty perfect to me, too,” Foggy murmured softly, the words sending shivers down Matt’s spine that had nothing to do with the way Foggy’s fingers were still trailing delicately back and forth across his skin.

“It _was,_ Foggy. Everything was perfect. And everyone was so happy, you and me, the girls planning their wedding…God, Claire and Karen. I wish you’d been able to see it…”

“Oh, so we’re in the same boat?”

“You…” Matt flicked Foggy’s nose, “you’re a dick.”

“I do not claim otherwise. But, please, continue.”

“It was just…” Matt struggled to find the words to describe an experience that was composed fundamentally of emotion. “My senses weren’t overwhelmed like they always are, I had everything I’d ever dreamed of, all the mistakes I’ve ever made were undone…”

“Mistakes?”

“Yeah, like letting Elena and Ben die –”

“— _not_ your fault –”

“—and not telling you the truth from the start –”

“– that one’s kinda on you –”

“– and you still loved me, despite Brad and the violence and the general freakiness of,” Matt gestured vaguely to his face, “this.”

Foggy hmmed thoughtfully. “OK. First thing: your face? Not freaky. Unless you count freakily _sexy_ ,” Foggy patted Matt’s cheek to illustrate his point, making Matt snort in a way he knew wasn’t attractive, but made Foggy laugh.

“And second? You wanna fill me in on ‘Brad’? Because I seem to remember a certain dickweed who went by that name taking the mickey out of me every day for weeks and _weeks_ in college…”

Matt stiffened, realizing far too late his error. Ah well, he tried to reason with the panic rising in his lungs, you had to fess up to Foggy about these things eventually, right? _Right_?

“That is, until this particular Brad turned up in a parking lot one chilly December morning, tied up like a _Fifty Shades of Grey_ reject and sobbing about how he was going to change his ways. He actually apologized to me that afternoon, the bastard! It was like a miracle.”

Matt puffed up a little at that, before clamping down on the response. _Nope_. Nope, he shouldn’t be acting like a proud peacock that he scared the daylights out of a sophomore punk; he should be feeling very contrite…even if said punk totally deserved what he got.

“But it wasn’t a miracle, was it, _Matt_?”

Matt cringed.

“It was, in fact, the work of the _Devil_ wasn’t it?”

Matt sighed.

“He…he gave you a _black eye_ , Foggy. I can still remember the sting of the ice I held to your face, the salt of your tears…I mean, I couldn’t let someone who made you cry – who _attacked_ you – just go on his merry way, could I?”

“Well, you didn’t apparently.”

“No, I didn’t. I told him…” Matt sucked in a deep steadying breath, taking comfort from Foggy’s steady heartbeat – he couldn’t be _that_ mad, and still seem so calm. “I told him in great detail exactly what would happen to him if he was anything but extremely pleasant to Foggy Nelson.”

“Hmm. Probably not nice things.”

“No. _Very_ not nice.”

“He could have died, Matt,” Foggy stated calmly.

“No,” Matt waved the thought away airily, “I left him where he’d be found long before the cold did any permanent damage. I just wanted to give him a warning…and teach him a lesson.”

Foggy only hmmed at this, and now the unwavering thump of his heart was starting to make Matt uneasy.

“So…” Matt dragged the word out, trying not to reveal how desperately he was waiting for Foggy’s reaction – for his verdict. “Was what I did…ok?”

“It depends. Why didn’t you tell me what you’d done, Matt?”

Matt froze for a moment, caught off guard as he tentatively put on hold his worries that he was about to be told in no uncertain terms that he was a damn psychopath and to get the fuck away. “Uh…because I thought you’d hate me, obviously. Kick me out on my creepy, bloodthirsty ass and never speak to me again. Honestly I’m kind of worried…that that option’s still on the table.”

_There_. Now Foggy’s heart was picking up speed as he slid across the sheets to cup Matt’s face in both his hands. “Oh, Matty, how could I ever hate you, you idiot? Much less hate you for trying to protect me…even if you were a bit… _overzealous_ about it. And kicking you out – that’s not on the table, now or ever, ok? Not least because we’re in _your_ apartment, and I don’t think I’d stand a chance against you in hand to hand combat, besides.”

Matt couldn’t stop a wide smile breaking out across his face at that as he leaned in to find out what that kind of devotion tasted like. Foggy sighed happily against his lips, shifting to better accommodate the angle. Matt only broke the kiss when he felt the gentle shake in Foggy’s chest that meant he was trying to repress a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Matt whispered against Foggy’s smile.

“I just keep thinking of that moment when I heard what happened to Brad. Knowing now that _you_ did it… Man, he was a grade-A shithead, and honestly, I am _thrilled_ that you terrified that fucker within an inch of his life.”

“Well,” Matt demurred, “maybe not an inch. More like a foot.”

“I dunno, I think you can be pretty damn scary.”

“Mmm, thank you,” Matt growled, tilting his head to nose interestedly at Foggy’s throat as he wrapped his arms more securely around Foggy’s waist.

“That wasn’t a compliment,” Foggy shoved weakly at Matt’s shoulder, which only made him grin wider and tighten his grip.

“Yeah,” Matt started to laugh as Foggy tried half-heartedly to wriggle free, “it was, and you know it.”

“Okay,” Foggy acquiesced as he relaxed into Matt’s hold, letting him nibble at the juncture of Foggy’s throat and shoulder, “maybe it was.” Matt hummed, pleased, against Foggy’s collarbone as he set about memorizing that wonderfully sensitive patch of skin.

“But hey,” Foggy took advantage of Matt’s distraction, getting some leverage and flipping them over, so that the next moment found Matt blinking blankly up at Foggy straddling him proudly. “ _I_ can be scary too.”

Foggy sure didn’t seem scary at the moment, more like hot as _fuck_. As Matt’s hands found their way to Foggy’s plush hips he quickly agreed, “Hell yes, you can be scary, I’ve been on the receiving end of your wrath.”

“Ha. Did I make the Devil quake in his tacky leather boots?”

“ _Hey_ , they’re…actually, I wouldn’t really know if they were tacky. Are they?”

“Maybe a little… _Nah_ , they’re kind of hot. Probably by virtue of being in your orbit.”

“Aw…do you think I’m hot, Foggy?” Matt teased, pinching Foggy’s sides.

“Stop fishing for compliments, asshat, you _know_ you’re hot.”

Matt shrugged expansively, using the movement as an excuse to grind his hips up against Foggy, making him moan at the unexpected friction.

“I may be hot…” Matt pitched his voice purposefully low, getting the desired shiver out of Foggy, “but you’re _perfect_.”

Foggy made a light sound, almost like a sigh, before responding in a matching husky tone, “Perfect, huh? You might say…like a _daydream_?”

“Ugh,” Matt groaned as Foggy started to giggle, “ _too soon_.” Foggy just started to laugh harder, so Matt took the initiative and flipped them back over so he could loom above Foggy on all fours.

“You are _awful_ ,” he declared, though he couldn’t muster up much venom for his words, what with the way Foggy’s ringing laughter made Matt’s skin tingle so pleasantly.

“Well, too bad,” Foggy shrugged cheerfully from his new position under Matt, “you’re stuck with me now. I’m hooked. Couldn’t drag me away, wild horses and all that.”

“That’s good to hear. Although, I do have some wild horses on hand if you change your mind. Well, actually they’re pretty well-trained, but they’d probably do the trick.”

“Horses, Matt? Where would you get horses? Did you _steal_ someone’s horses?”

“Don’t be silly, Foggy, I didn’t _steal_ them. I saved their owner, one of those guys who drive couples around the city in horse-drawn carriages to see the sights, from some thug with a switchblade. And, he was so grateful for my heroics that he gave me a lifetime pass of free rides. So, if you like horses…”

“I don’t actually. They’re so skittish all the time, and they smell weird.”

“You have no idea.”

“But I’m sure you do. And, can I just point out once again that you do not get to call me silly when _you’re_ the one telling a story in which you’re dashing around at night jumping in front of knives while dressed like a Satan-worshipping dominatrix?”

“Wow, you _really_ hate my costume, don’t you?”

“I don’t actually.”

“And yet, you’ve brought up how absurd it is, like, four times tonight.”

“Ah….I think that’s probably just a sort of inverse reaction to how fuckin’ hot I think it is.”

Matt expression was first surprised, then pleased, and then mischievous.

“Hot, yeah?”

“Yeah, all that skin-tight leather…” Foggy continued a little dreamily, “mmm.”

Matt chuckled, the sound low and deep, jolting Foggy’s attention fully back to reality.

“If you like the costume so much…” Matt leaned down to nip gently at Foggy’s shoulder, “I could…go get it?”

“What, and _wear_ it?”

Matt nodded vigorously.

“Ok, but wouldn’t putting clothes _on_ be somewhat contrary to our present activities?”

“Not if you like the way it looks. And besides…” Matt lips brushed the shell of Foggy’s ear as he whispered his next words, “the fun part is when you take it _off_ me.”

Foggy’s body was all the answer he needed. Matt was already leaping lightly off the bed and heading for the closet when Foggy finally found his voice and managed to choke out, “Yes. Now. Please.” His eyes followed Matt’s figure hungrily as he leisurely pulled the red leather from its trunk. “Oh my God,” Foggy couldn’t help but mutter at the thoroughly arousing sight.

Matt tsked at Foggy as he began to dress, his mouth splitting open in a wicked grin. “Taking the Lord’s name in vain,” Matt purposefully let his voice dip into his Devil registers, enjoying the way he could sense Foggy responding to it. “That’s a sin, you know.”

“Yeah, well,” Foggy’s voice was shaky with desire, and Matt tried not to stumble over the costume’s many complicated clasps in his hurry to get the hell back to bed, “I think I’m actually pretty close with the big guy downstairs, I think he could put in a good word for me.”

“I don’t think his word counts for much where you’re heading.”

“Oh, really? You think I’m taking my eternal vacation behind the pearly gates?”

“I know you are. If anyone ever belonged there, it’s you. I mean, look what you’ve put up with in your mortal years.”

“Ah, yes, because having a hot kinky superhero boyfriend is _such_ a hardship.”

“I haven’t always been your boyfriend, or a superhero. I’ve been much worse things. But you’ve always been an angel.” The humor and sexiness of the moment was briefly subsumed by the unexpected depth of emotion Matt found in his words.

“I would disagree, but….wait. Is that it? You’re a devil, and I’m your angel?” Matt could tell Foggy was trying to keep his tone breezy, but it came out breathless.

“No,” Matt murmured softly as reached out with a gloved hand to stroke Foggy’s cheek tenderly, reverently. “You’re even better than that. You’re my dream come true.”

**Author's Note:**

> In Frank Miller’s “The Man Without Fear” Daredevil comic, Matt scares the hell out of Foggy’s nasty bully Brad, telling him “in great detail exactly what would happen to him if he was anything but extremely pleasant to Foggy Nelson” – I thought that was incredible so I worked that in here.


End file.
